War Is Over
by authoressnebula
Summary: Spoilers through 4x14: The world began to fall apart. All Dean cared about was getting Sam out. Speculation about the end.


"Just hang on," Dean said through gritted teeth, his hand tight on Sam's arm. Sam made a sound that sounded too much like a whimper, and turned his head even more in towards Dean's shoulder. Dean in turn only clenched harder on Sam's arm. The ground rumbled beneath them, and the explosion wasn't even surprising.

Not now. Not after...everything.

Months of fighting, tense with each other and the world. The final betrayals, the shock as even while the angels had fought, Sam had been taken by Lilith to be used as Lucifer's freakin' _vessel_, and if Dean hadn't had the brainwave of shoving Ruby's knife through his hand and Sam's, holding on by grip and blood, Lucifer would've been wearing Sam. The curse Sam'd been given as an innocent baby, the blood that had poisoned his mind and body for _months _while Dean had been busy feeling hurt and betrayed, had finally, _finally _been destroyed with the combination of the knife and Dean's blood.

Sam had been useless then to Lilith, and even as she'd screamed her rage and fury, Dean had already been hauling his brother towards the car. He'd had no doubt that whatever the hell she'd wind up doing, it wasn't going to be pretty, and he didn't want either of them around for it.

And just as he'd gotten Sam into the Impala, he'd been proven right.

Her scream of rage had turned into a scream of terror, and the explosion of light had made Dean cover him and Sam from the brightness. The rumbling of the ground had started a moment later, and Dean hadn't cared what the angels had done or what saving Sam had managed to do, Lucifer had still been trying to get out, and Dean had merely slid into the driver's seat. Pulled a still out-of-it Sam close, slammed the key into the ignition, and flew away.

About seven seconds later, the previously flat ground where an old church had once stood, holy ground that had been abandoned, had gone up in an explosion of flames and light.

Another crash behind them, and one glance in the rear-view mirror had Dean pushing his foot almost to the floor. He could hear the engine laboring, but he'd take time to baby her later. When they were alive and safe. Not while Dean had a devastating earthquake and a growing fire and _explosions_ to outrun.

The shaky, sharp inhale made Dean glance down at Sam, only to find his younger brother's eyes wide, his face pale, and tears pooling. "Dean," he breathed, voice tight, and Dean finally realized he had his gaze on the rear-view mirror.

Dean took his hand off the wheel for a precious moment (because letting go of Sam was _not_ an option, not after almost losing him to a demon that would've literally ripped him apart) and viciously twisted the rear-view mirror to face the ceiling. "Lilith's having a bitch-fit," he said tersely, his hand back on the wheel. He lowered his shoulder a little and slid his hand down to Sam's non-injured one, hoping his actions could say the words he couldn't. _It wasn't your fault. I'm still here, and I'm not leaving. I love you._

One of those had to have gotten through, because Sam finally relaxed again against Dean, his head settling even more on Dean's shoulder.

Of course, 'relaxed' was a there and gone term, because the next explosion had Dean fighting for the wheel. "Sonuva_bitch_," Dean cursed, glancing out to the side mirror. His head snapped back to face the front, heart beating fast. Holy-

"Oh god," Sam whispered, and when Dean realized he was gazing at the _other_ side mirror, he let go of Sam's hand in order to turn his brother's head into Dean's shoulder.

"Don't look," Dean ordered.

"D-Dean-"

"No, no looking, no big moments of guilt and asking yourself if this was your fault because it _wasn't_, you couldn't have stopped Lilith or the blood, and definitely no chick-flick moments because you think we might be dying because we're _not_, we're gonna _make it_, so hold the hell _on_!"

The accelerator was shoved all the way into the floor, and when Sam grabbed at his shirt, it was partially for comfort, partially to not fall off the seat. Behind them was coming up a big dust cloud, which had started because the freakin' ground had just _caved_, and there was fire licking at his baby's wheels, the ground was breaking apart beneath them, and when he had to let go of Sam to grab the wheel with both hands, Sam weakly pressed his stabbed hand against Dean and whimpered again, and if they didn't get out of this after everything, Dean was gonna _scream_.

The Impala took a dip to the left before hitting a rise hard and fast, and for a moment they were airborne. Dean watched the descent with wide eyes, both feet pressed against the accelerator, one arm wrapping tightly around Sam to keep him from falling. His vision tunneled to the small patch of earth that hadn't been destroyed, right in front of them, and it was a race to see if he could get there first before the destruction.

An eternity passed, as they hung in the air, and six seconds after they'd flown up they came back down, hard. The car immediately shot forward, ahead of the destruction by a few inches.

It took awhile, but finally the silence began to permeate through the ringing in his ears. Dean glanced out the side mirror and finally let off the accelerator, cautiously and slowly bringing the car down to a stop. When the destruction stayed far away and didn't creep closer, Dean finally tapped the brake and put the car in park. The engine happily rumbled to a stop.

For a long moment, there was nothing but silence. Another moment passed before Dean realized he was clutching at Sam hard enough to cut off circulation, and that Sam was down across his lap, his head dangerously close to the door and the wheel. "Sammy?" Dean asked, even as he quickly let go and carefully turned Sam over.

Sam blinked up at him, his eyes shining, his face streaked with dirt and dust, his lip cut, his face almost white. But he was breathing heavily and looking at Dean, and Dean could've cried because it was _over_. Lilith, the seals, Lucifer...it was _over_.

And when Sam whispered in an uncertain voice, "Dean?" Dean did finally start crying. Sam frowned and looked even more upset, but Dean began to smile, and realized that when he did, he couldn't stop. "Dean?"

"It's over," Dean whispered, before he laughed. "Sammy, it's _over_. This was the only thing we were afraid of, the ultimate big bad, the freakin' _end of the world_, and we did it. No more blood, no more deals, nothing."

Sam stared up at him, tears sliding to his ears through the grime, but finally his quivering lips slid up into a half-smile. "It's over?"

"Yeah, Sammy," Dean said, and god, it hurt to smile like this but he couldn't stop. He leaned down towards Sam and watched Sam finally honest to god smile for the first time in months. "It's over."

Sam finally laughed too, then laughed again, and the third laugh turned on a dime into a sob. "Dean, I'm sorry-"

"No," Dean said, shaking his head. The months of betrayal, anger and hurt were over. God, Dean should've _known_ that the blood was doing something to Sam, almost possessing him, slowly but surely turning the Sammy he knew into someone he didn't. He should've known. It'd been so slow, though, that even Sam hadn't realized what was going on until it was too late.

And when Dean had been down to his dad's last order of saving Sam or killing Sam, he'd made his choice.

"No, Sammy," he said again, softer this time. "You can throw blame around all you want, but I don't want to, and god knows I've got a fair share of the crap coming my way, okay? Besides, I'm calling a do-over."

Sam sniffled and shook his head against the seat. "You can't call do-over with something like this."

"Yeah, I can. You know why?" Dean gently lifted Sam's hastily wrapped hand into his own bandaged one, the one that still ached after being pressed hard to the steering wheel. "You're alive. I'm alive, too, we both walked out of the end of the freakin' world, and that's all that matters, Sammy. You wanna talk semantics later, fine, but not now. Not when I got my little brother back."

"Dean," Sam whispered, and Dean's nose and eyes began to burn. End of the world, a man was allowed to cry, goddammit.

And he was allowed to hold onto his brother as hard as he wanted.

"Dean! Sam!"

Dean lifted his burning eyes and glanced out the front windshield to where Bobby was hurrying over. Looked a little worse for wear, but he was alive, and that was all Dean was focusing on at the moment.

"C'mon," Dean said, opening the driver's side and carefully sliding out from underneath Sam. Once he was out, he caught Sam's arms and pulled him out, one step at a time. Bobby got there in time to help get Sam's legs under him, and things were okay again. The air smelled like charcoal and smoke and earth, but so long as Dean was breathing it, he was okay.

God, they were _alive_ and it was _over_ and the possibilities were suddenly endless. They could take a break from hunting, presuming there was even any hunting left to do. Little stuff, he was sure, but enough that the remaining hunters could handle it. Nothing big, because the big had been done, and the big _was_ done, and suddenly, Dean realized they were open to _anything_. The world was theirs, and his smile couldn't get any bigger.

"Dean."

Dean whipped around, his smile sliding from his face. Uriel and Castiel stood before him, looking more worn, but still just as Dean had last seen them before he'd grabbed Sam and run. Their eyes slid past Dean's shoulder, and Dean took an involuntary step to the left. A skittering of steps behind him made him glance back once, then return his gaze to the angels. Bobby was keeping Sam against the car and covering him from the other side; good.

Because so help him, if they wanted to pin this all on Sam...

"You did well," Uriel said, and it looked like it pained him to say it. Dean managed a tight, patronizing smirk for him, and Uriel glowered in response. "But there is much to do, still."

The elation of being done caught swiftly in his chest, painfully tight. It was Sam's whispered, "But...but wait, no, it's over, i-it _has_ to be," that finally got Dean moving on the one emotion he could always call upon: anger.

"Now you listen to me, you righteous sons of bitches-"

"We have to repair the seals," Castiel said, and he almost looked regretful. "We still need you. Need you both," he amended, glancing past Dean.

"We'll start immediately," Uriel said, no such regret in his voice. "The seals which you two let Lilith filch, like your humanity stole the apple so many millennia ago, will be the first repaired."

"That _they_ let slip?" Bobby said incredulously, before he snorted. "Seals ain't somethin' for humans to mess with or even be involved in. Hell, they shouldn't have been involved in _any_ of this!"

"If the one who cowers against you now hadn't stood so proudly with his tainted blood, then none of this would've even come to pass," Uriel seethed, shrugging off Castiel's hand on his shoulder.

"That was beyond his damn control, you can't say-"

"Uriel, cease this-"

"I can say, because it will take time to undo everything Lilith did, but it can be-"

"No."

Amazingly, Uriel stopped. They all stopped, and Dean let the silence settle in before he continued. "No. We're done, because it's over."

Uriel stared, then shook himself. "It is never _over_-"

"Well, it is for the two of us," Dean said firmly. "Because you know what? We've more than served our time, long before you guys even got as up to your necks in it as we were. We've given and bled and _died_, and that's more than enough.

"And I want a house," he said suddenly, before Uriel could cut in again. "I want a house of my own. I want dishes, I want forks that aren't bent like they are in every diner in America. I want a garage so my baby doesn't have to sit out in the rain. I want my own bed, a closet instead of a duffel bag, and slippers." He snorted at the furthering of disgust in Uriel's face. "Yeah, I actually want fluffy slippers because I _can_.And a set of towels that match and a big reclining chair and a goddamn _cat_ to make me trip whenever I walk into the freakin' room."

He glanced back at Sam then, who was leaning heavily against the car, eyes wide and staring at Dean with the first traces of hope Dean had seen in too long. Dean swallowed and continued softly, "And I want Sam to be able to have a library of everything he could possibly want to read, and a stationary computer, and a college nearby so he can do his classes and a CD player so he can play all his emo music and I want him to _smile_ and I want him to be _happy_ and I want him to have a _home_," and if he choked a little on the last word, he didn't care.

Not when Sam was giving a watery smile that he was biting viciously to keep from turning into a sob. Dean gave him as firm a smile as he could manage and turned back to the angels. Uriel still looked disgusted, but Castiel had tilted his head, and was regarding him with something akin to understanding and agreement. Dean took in a deep breath and met Castiel's eyes as he finished quietly, "_I_ want to have a home. I want us both to have a home and we're _done_. We are so done. I'm not...I'm not waiting around to watch my brother die again, or listen to my brother scream while _I _die. Let someone else take the risks; we've taken them long enough. We're done. Sammy and I are _done_ because it's _over_."

Uriel stepped forward, and this time when Castiel caught his arm, the furious angel was pulled back. "We may have to call upon you," Castiel said softly. "But only if it comes to that. You will still be hunted by the remaining demons and spirits."

"Then we'll deal with it," Bobby said, and Dean closed his eyes in relief at the automatic support.

"And I will watch over both," Castiel promised. When Dean opened his eyes again, both angels were gone.

He turned without hesitation back to Sam, who was still staring at him in disbelief. "Dean, I...you..." He swallowed hard and slowly shook his head. "I can't...it's over?" he asked in a small voice.

Dean stepped back over and caught Sam's arm, gazing up into eyes that were no longer tinted gold or black. Just hazel, just his little brother. "Yeah, Sammy," Dean said. "It's over. And we're still standing." _And still brothers._

And even despite everything he'd told the angels, despite the relief in his chest and the smile that was coming back to his face, it was that last, silent affirmation that was the most important.

END


End file.
